by Van ©2022
		Chapter 1

Dark and Light.
Yin and Yang.
Combatants and collaborators.
Opponents and allies.
Eliza and Coco and Tippi and Pepper.

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Negotiations weren't all that protracted, but they were spirited.  Anyway, Eliza triumphed in the end.  At first, her target had been quite reluctant to even discuss the possibility of a single interview, much less a whole series of interviews that would be edited into a number of podcasts; but, with charm and persistence, Eliza convinced the notorious Coco Vespini to meet over coffee, and once they were face-to-face... the rest was easy.

Coco Vespini, of course, is the famous (infamous) "Installation Artist" known for her highly controversial exhibits of, to put it baldly, kinky bondage equipment, including models (manikins?) wearing said kinky bondage equipment.  "My art explores issues of power, restriction, and manipulation," she explained in an article in Vanity Fair.  Controversial?  Many critics dismissed her work outright.  Others professed mild disapproval.  But an influential minority took her seriously.  Eliza recognized Coco as the perfect guest for her podcast series.

And who is Eliza?  Obviously, you're not into podcasts.  To be fair, she's just starting out, but already, Eliza Callahan's podcast Trying New Things is highly successful (as such things go).  Nobody gets rich doing podcasts, but Eliza had lined up enough sponsorship to pay the bills.  Content-wise, one might say Eliza specializes in not specializing, and she definitely has a talent for "finding fresh and intriguing angles," as she loves to tell Tippi.

The Tippi in question was Tippi Sparks, Eliza's "IT nerd."  She tackles the technical/technological challenges of recording and preparing Eliza's podcasts for broadcast.  Eliza makes all the creative decisions and insists on doing all of the editing herself, of course (but then Tippi goes back and does it right).  In short, Eliza is the talent (the talking head), and Tippi picks up the pieces, smooths out the lumps, and makes sure the final podcasts are up to snuff.  She's been Eliza's behind-the-scenes partner since they were roommates at Lewis & Clark University... which wasn't really all that long ago.

Also, They're best friends.

By the way, Tippi doesn't look like your stereotypical nerd.  For one thing, she doesn't wear glasses.  For another, she's beautiful, rather than cute.  Also, her short, straight, brown pageboy is always impeccably neat and sleek.  Tippi is never messy.  She was born in the UK, but has spent the majority of her life in the US and speaks with only the slightest trace of a British accent—which her friends (including Eliza) universally agree only makes her even more adorable.

Technically, everybody agrees that Eliza is also beautiful (like Tippi), but somehow that doesn't immediately come to mind when describing her.  Her blond hair is cropped short in a tousled pixie, her features even and undeniably attractive, her blue eyes absolutely gorgeous, her smile appealing, and her figure trim and athletic; but she has an unmistakable tomboy/hoyden air about her that sometimes dominates her good looks.  Like Tippi, Eliza was foreign born.  She's from The Land Down Under.  Eliza is an "Ozzie Gull," and also like Tippi, her accent has faded with time.

Anyway, the meet-and-greet over coffee with Coco went very well  Both Eliza and Tippi attended, and while the most Eliza had hoped for was a series of additional meetings, leading to recorded interviews, but Coco had upped the ante by insisting that Eliza and her charming IT partner stay as her guests at her "compound" for several weeks!  That way, Eliza could watch as Coco developed her next series of "installations," they'd have plenty of opportunities to talk, and Tippi should be able to record enough material for a dozen podcasts, and that included video (which meant the girls could start that YouTube channel they'd been talking about).

By the way, in Eliza and Tippi's humble opinions, Coco Vespini was... intriguing.  Also, she was beautiful, in a girlish way that belied her fifty-something years.  Clear, fair skin—longish brown curls that framed a truly gorgeous face—a fit, curvaceous body—sparkling brown eyes—and a quirky smile... beautiful.  The photos from the various articles about Coco and her works didn't do her justice.  Also, she was sharp as the proverbial tack.

Eliza was more convinced than ever that she was looking at a real opportunity, something that could lead to real success, something that could open a lot of celebrity doors—If she handled it right.

In any case, Eliza's hypothetical (but increasingly probable) podcast series about Coco and her "Art" would not be a puff piece.  Eliza didn't do puff pieces.  Puff pieces only led to more puff pieces.  Some people took that as a career path, but not Eliza Callahan.  Eliza provided a smart and entertaining forum that allowed her subjects to present their views, make their case, and let their voices be heard.  Bondage as High Art?  Coco would have to prove it, but Eliza would listen with an open mind (and ask penetrating questions).

Anyway, coffee was drunk, pastries were nibbled, and plans were made.

"I don't know why you're acting so surprised," Eliza huffed.  "You helped with the research."

"Okay, I knew it would be big," Tippi muttered, "but just look at the place!"

Wasp by nephlm on DeviantArt

The place in question was Coco Vespini's somewhat isolated, somewhat opulent Gothic Revival mansion nestled on the shores of a large, charming lake and surrounded by a green forest of mature cedars.  The closest apparent neighbors were a handful of expensive lakeside homes, the closest of which was at least a quarter-mile across the lake.

"I'm looking at it," Eliza said, meaning the mansion.  "You know she's rich, and you know the place's history.  I am a little surprised it's in such good shape.  I don't know why, but I assumed it would be a little... run down."

Eliza was behind the wheel of her 2014 Toyota Prius-C, Tippi was in the passenger seat, and their luggage was in the back.  The state road had skirted the edge of the lake for more than a mile, but now they were pulling up to the mechanized gate that controlled entry to the developed property.  Eliza pressed the call button on the usual pedestal-mounted keypad and they waited for a response.

Mounted on the twelve-foot, black, vinyl-coated, chain-link fence encircling the property was a sign reading "Vespini Gallery."  Tippi found the sign's wasp logo artistic... and only a little creepy.  (Tippi was not fond of insects.)  Below the gallery sign was a smaller, less artistic, and not at all welcoming sign that read: PRIVATE PROPERTY; BY APPOINTMENT ONLY; NO TRESPASSING.

The "history" they had referenced earlier was the origin of the structure that now served as Coco's gallery, workshop, and family home.  It was built in the late nineteenth century as a private sanitarium, meaning an insane asylum.  At some point the medical practice/business failed and the structure stood empty for about two decades, then was purchased and refurbished by Coco's grandparents.  Coco grew up in the place, as did her younger sister, Pepper Vespini.

Eliza and Tippi had yet to meet Pepper, Coco's fashion photographer sibling, but thanks to their duly diligent research, they knew that in her own field Pepper was as famous and successful as Coco, but was in no way controversial.  The siblings shared "Villa Vespini" as their domiciles and professional bases of operation.

And oh-by-the-way, thanks to the handful of portraits available on the internet, the girls also knew that Pepper was every bit as trim, gorgeous, and attractive as her slightly older sister.

It was yet to be determined if Pepper would play any role in Eliza and Tippi's project.
  
"Hello, ladies," a tinny voice finally sounded from the control pedestal's tiny speaker.  "Welcome to Villa Vespini.  Please, come in."  A motor hummed, the drive chain shook, and the iron gate began slowly sliding open.  "Pull up to the front entrance.  We'll find you a place in the garage after we unload."

"Hello!  Thank you!" Eliza and Tippi answered in unison.  The voice had been Coco's... probably.

The Prius' tires crunched as Eliza pulled onto the curved gravel driveway and up to the mansion's formal entryway.  Coco and Pepper appeared and greeted their young guests.  After introducing Pepper, Eliza, Tippi, and their hosts carried the girl's luggage through the mansion and towards their assigned guest bedrooms.

Eliza and Tippi were impressed by the mansion's decor and the quality of the furnishings.  They passed parlors, sitting rooms, and innumerable side hallways with rows of closed doors.

"The place is a bit of a maze," Coco apologized, "but it won't take long for you to learn your way around.  You know it used to be a sanitarium, right?"

"Yes," Eliza answered, "many decades ago."

"You'll notice all the doors have substantial locks," Coco continued, "and we keep most of them secured at all times.  We have no need for additional space... unless we throw a party."

"And all the windows are barred," Pepper explained, "even in the common areas.  What looks like normal glazed windows are actually grids of iron bars with the panes set in mullions cast directly into the bars.  They have heavy-duty hinges and substantial locks as well, like the doors."

"Can't have the patients opening windows and escaping, now can we?" Coco chuckled.

"Oh course," Eliza agreed, then smiled at her partner's expression.  Tippi was a little nervous.  Eliza smiled and winked.  Tippi stuck out her tongue in reply.

They arrived at a long hallway with a row of doors down both sides, but access was blocked by a substantial gate of iron bars intertwined with decorative iron vines and leaves.

Eliza and Tippi exchanged another look as Coco produced a modern, barrel-style key and used it to unlock the gate.  She then used the same key to unlock the first two doors in the hallway.  Now they were both a little nervous.

"I cleaned your rooms and put fresh sheets on the beds, Pepper said with a smile.  "I don't know why I locked the doors and gate afterward.  Just habit, I guess."

The rooms were identical, something like ten-feet square and tastefully but rather drably furnished.  Each had a twin-size bed with a tubular steel bed-frame supporting a single mattress, a wooden wardrobe set against one wall, a modest but comfortable looking gray armchair facing a large window, a small writing desk with a single straight-back wooden chair... and nothing else.  The open drapes were rather heavy, possibly of bleached canvas, and looked to be more-or-less opaque.  The bed was neatly made with gray blankets, white sheets, and a single pillow with a white pillowcase.

"Drop your bags and let's go to the atrium for tea," Coco suggested (ordered).  "You can unpack later."

"Uh, where's the bathroom?" Eliza inquired.

"I'll show you," Pepper smiled, "and there are bedpans for nighttime emergencies."

Eliza and Tippi exchanged yet another look.  "Bedpans?" they silently mouthed.  And there were, indeed, bedpans under the beds, enameled steel with close-fitting covers.

The bathroom in question was across the hall, and was... institutional.  A tiled area with a row of shower heads was along one wall—three commodes stood in open stalls, affording minimal privacy—a row of sinks and steel mirrors was opposite the showers—and near the door was a rack of white towels.  Finally, there was a stainless steel tub with a hinged lid or cover, a grid of steel slats split down the middle with a seven-inch diameter opening towards one end.

Coco had noticed the girl's interest.  "The collar built into the lid is to keep the patient's head above water," she explained, "so they can't drown themselves."

"We're in the patients wing?" Tippi asked.

"One of them," Coco answered.  Her smile widened (and took on a rather quirky twist).  "I thought these rooms would suit our purposes better than the staff quarters above the main mansion.  I've found sleeping in the old patient rooms helps my assistants maintain the proper attitude while they help me develop my exhibits."

"Assistants?" Eliza asked.

Coco's smile remained quirky.  "You're going to be helping me with my next installation while you conduct your interviews, remember?"  She turned to her sister.  "Tea in the atrium?"

Pepper grinned, then turned and walked away.  "On it."

Eliza noticed the wide-eyed expression on Tippi's face and leaned close.  "Get it together," she whispered.  "She's trying to psyche us out."

"And succeeding," Tippi whispered back.  The girls turned to find Coco smiling at them.

"Of course," Coco purred, "you can use the tub without the cover closed and locked.  Or... you can use the showers."

"Showers for me," Tippi stated.

Eliza and Coco had locked eyes.  "I might try the tub," Eliza said quietly, "without the cover, of course."

"Of course," Coco agreed, and led the girls from the bathroom.  Their bedroom doors and the hallway gate remained open and unlocked.

As it turned out, the "atrium" wasn't an atrium in the technical sense, in that it wasn't a completely enclosed courtyard.  The side facing the lake was open.  In the center was a large, kidney-shaped koi pond surrounded by flowerbeds and groupings of bushes and small trees.  It was anything but a formal garden.  Walkways meandered through the plantings.  A teak table and four chairs were placed in one corner, and a sculpture doubling as a support for a pair of hanging bird feeders stood opposite, clearly visible across a few yards of neatly trimmed grass.

Coco, Eliza, and Tippi strolled through the garden.  A mixed flock of chickadees and nuthatches fled as they passed the sculpture/bird-feeding-station, and they noted (with mild alarm, especially on Tippi's part) that the sculpture was a hollow and anatomically correct depiction of the shape of a fit, curvaceous woman.  The exact shape.  It was as if several thorny vines had wrapped themselves around a woman standing upright with her legs together and arms outstretched and raised to either side.  The vines and leaves lay flat and would have completely covered the absent woman's wrists, ankles, neck, and mouth, and she (the absent woman) was wearing a thorny and leafy crown of six to eight-inch branches radiating in all directions.

And just to be clear (and this was the alarming part), the sculpture was undeniably a CAGE!    The vines in question were iron (or possibly powder-coated steel), and the sculpture opened in multiple panels with subdued but visible hinges and were secured by flush-mounted locks with barrel-style keyholes.  It really was a cage!  An artistic, close-confining, anatomically correct cage!

"My one and only garden installation... to date," Coco explained as she smiled and watched her young guests examine the sculpture/cage/installation.  "The thorns are to discourage the squirrels from climbing up the sculpture to get to the bird feeders."  The feeders in question were tube-style seed-feeders with tiny perches for avian visitors, and were protected from the rain by a pair of umbrella-like domes of overlapping copper leaves.  "The feeders are high enough that the little buggers can't jump up from the ground, and the thorns prevent them from climbing up the sculpture and leaping across."

Eyes wide, Eliza and Tippi stared at the dangling feeders, the iron cage, and its innumerable short but distressingly sharp-looking thorns, all of which were pointing outwards, they noted.  None were pointing inwards.  The sculpture/cage was not an iron-maiden-style execution device.

"I like songbirds," Tippi said in a near whisper.

Eliza favored her friend with an incredulous expression.

Coco's smile widened as she indicated the sculpture with a graceful gesture.  "It's a really unique opportunity for up-close observation," she purred.  "Or so they tell me."  She then indicated the teak table and chairs across the lawn.  "Shall we?"

They crossed the lawn and sat around the table just as Pepper arrived with a tea service on a wooden tray.  "Shall I be mother?" she inquired as she poured tea into a cup and saucer and handed it to Eliza.  "Milk or sugar?"

"Thanks," Eliza answered, then added milk, stirred her cup, and took her first sip as Pepper poured and distributed three more cups.  "Spot on."

"Thank you," Coco smiled.  "Now, let's get down to business."  She picked up a leather portfolio resting on the ground next to her chair, opened its flap, withdrew a pair of manila folders, and handed them to Eliza and Tippi.  "The nondisclosure agreements and contracts we discussed," she explained.  "Please read them over, sign, and we can begin."

Eliza read the document for several seconds... which turned into two long minutes.  Eliza's features settled into sullen frown as she flipped the pages.  "I understand your need for some form of legal protection," she said finally, "but this is a bit much, don't you think?"

"Be sure and initial each paragraph," Coco added, "as well as signing above your name on the last page."

Eliza shook her head.  She was not happy.  "This supposedly gives you the right to tell us what to wear and when we can and can't speak, twenty-four hours a day, and we agree to follow your every order immediately and to the letter?"

Pepper pulled a pen from her pocket and held it out.  "My sister is a little... eccentric.  But remember, no document ever written protects anybody from prosecution for illegal activities."

"If you say no, it means no," Coco purred.  "There's an entire paragraph to that effect."

"But still," Eliza objected, "I—"  She stopped and stared at Tippi, who had taken the pen from Pepper's hand and now was busily initialing each and every paragraph of her copy of the contract.  She signed the final page, smiled as she handed the folder to Coco, then presented the pen to Eliza.

Eliza glared at her partner and didn't take the pen.

"What?" Tippi demanded.  "We said we were gonna do this, right?"

Eliza rolled her eyes, snatched the pen from Tippi's hand, and began initialing and signing her copy of the contract.

Meanwhile, Coco signed Tippi's copy... then Pepper signed as a witness.

Eliza sighed, and watched sullenly as Coco and Pepper signed and witnessed her copy of the document.

"What?" Tippi repeated in a whisper.  "It's what you want."

"Whatever," Eliza whispered back.

"Now that that's taken care of," Coco smiled, "let's enjoy our tea and get to know one another even better."

The hours that followed were pleasant enough, but Eliza couldn't shake a feeling of... foreboding.  It had started while she read the contract, and she knew it was silly, just as she already knew all about Coco and her Art.  And she'd already agreed to help her with her "creative process" and was planning on working the experiences into her interviews... but still.

Tippi and her bizarre hot-and-cold attitude wasn't helping.  It was nothing overt (except to Eliza, of course, who knew her well), but the nerd was nervous, or maybe excited, or both, and it wasn't like her.

Anyway, Pepper gave them a quick tour of the "living area," the portion of the mansion the sisters normally occupied and wasn't cordoned off behind locked doors or iron gates.  Surprisingly, there were no more examples of Coco's installations anywhere in evidence, nothing even remotely similar to the bird-feeder-cage-sculpture out in the garden.  There was, however, a fully equipped home gym—a serene yoga studio with a mat-covered floor and a view of the lake through an expansive window-wall—an adjoining shower area with a dry sauna—a large combination greenhouse and swimming pool on the side away from the lake—as well as the usual parlors and sitting rooms, a gourmet kitchen, and a charming dining room.

Dinner was delicious: red wine risotto with peas—broiled salmon with garlic, mustard, and herbs—sauteed green beans with tomatoes and basil—and mocha semifreddo for desert.  Pepper was the cook, and obviously she was quite the culinary artist.

The girls helped with the cleanup, then they all retired to a sitting room and continued chatting.  Nothing substantial was discussed, either with respect to Coco's next installation or Eliza's planned interviews.

Finally, Coco announced it was time for them to retire for the evening (and it wasn't a suggestion).

Eliza glanced at Tippi... who smiled and shrugged.  The hour was late... a little.

The girls said their good nights and retired to their rooms.  They'd already unpacked their bags before dinner, placing everything in the wardrobes, including their luggage.  Unfortunately, neither of them had thought to pack a robe (and their hosts hadn't provided any).  So, they conducted their evening toilettes in their underwear, then returned to their rooms, fully disrobed, and donned their preferred sleepwear.  In Tippi's case, that meant pink, lightweight flannel shorts and a matching short sleeve, V-neck top.  Eliza was less formal, simply stripping to her panties and pulling on a white tank-top.

And then, they went to sleep.  ...  Or not.

There was a knock at Eliza's bedroom door, the door opened, and the overhead light was switched on!  All Eliza had time to do was sit up in bed and blink a few times.

"Oh good," Coco chuckled, "you're still awake."

"What?" Eliza demanded.  She wasn't at all sure she was awake, and noted Coco had changed into a pair of black stretch pants and a black tank-top (no bra), her feet were bare, her hair pulled back in a strict ponytail, and she was carrying an expensive-looking black leather gym-bag in her right hand.  Gucci!  Eliza could see the logo, clearly.

"I've found it best to start training my assistants immediately with a series of exercises," Coco explained, "to put them in the proper frame of mind."

"What?" Eliza reiterated.  She'd only just closed her eyes (she thought), but decided that yes, she actually was awake.

"Strip," Coco ordered.  She was smiling her usual smile as she stepped to the bed, dropped the gym bag on the floor, then pulled back the rumpled bedclothes, exposing Eliza'a semi-clothed body.

"Hey!" Eliza yelped.

"Off with everything," Coco grinned.  "Chop-chop."

"No!" Eliza objected.

Coco's smile widened.  "Quitting so soon?  Before we even get started?"

"You can't just barge in here and..."  Eliza's scowl faded to a look of befuddlement.  Oh.

"Yes, that's right," Coco purred.  "The contract.  Your choice is simple, darling.  Either obey me, as you agreed... or quit.  I'm showing you my creative process, remember?"

Eliza's scowl returned.  "Embarrassing the bloody hell out of me is part of your bloody process?" she demanded.

"In so many bloody words," Coco chuckled, nodding her head.  "Power, restriction, and manipulation, like I told you."

Eliza continued glaring at her hostess.

"Well?" Coco said after several seconds.  "Which is it going to be?"  Her smile was quirky... and infuriating.

Eliza continued glaring... then pulled her tank-top over her head and tossed it aside.  She then stood, pulled down her panties, stepped free, and tossed them after the tank-top.

"Excellent," Coco smiled.  "Sit."

Still frowning (and now nude), Eliza sat on the bed and watched (glowered) as Coco picked up her gym bag, dropped it on the foot of the bed, zipped open a side pocket, reached inside, pulled out a pair of clear, latex gloves, and tossed them to Eliza.

"What are these for?" Eliza demanded, shaking the gloves for emphasis.

"Put them on," Coco ordered.

"Why?"

Coco's brown eyes sparkled and her dimpled smile grew somewhat coy.  "Because Coco says so, darling."

Eliza heaved a deep, pouting sigh... then followed the order.  She blew up the gloves like five-fingered balloons to make them easier to don, and soon her fingers, hands, and wrists were smoothly and tightly encased in clear latex.

Meanwhile, Coco had reached back into the gym bag and produced a small roll of clear, two-inch wide, vinyl tape.

Coco sat beside Eliza and took her right hand.  "Make a fist for Coco," she purred, Eliza did so, and she began wrapping the pouting blonde's fist in tight, neatly overlapping layers of tape.  "The gloves are to protect your skin," she explained as she finished completely mummifying Eliza's right hand and reached for her left.  "It took me a while to find a brand of tape with just the right amount of stretch that had a strong adhesive that more-or-less fuses to latex and itself.

When she was finished, almost the entire roll of tape was expended and Eliza's fists were now permanent.  Thanks to the multiple layers, the tape was no longer clear, but was... translucent.  Needless to say, her fingers and hands were utterly useless, except maybe for punching something... like Coco Vespini's smug face.  Eliza managed to control herself.

Eliza watched as Coco unzipped the gym bag's main compartment, pulled out a coyote-brown coil of thin cord, released its retaining hitch, shook it open, then began doubling it and finding its center.  "Is that paracord?" Eliza asked in near whisper.

"One-hundred-percent nylon," Coco confirmed, "four millimeter diameter, seven-strand interior, braided exterior sheath, and break-tested to five-hundred-fifty-pounds."

The coil was ready for use.  "Stand, cross your wrists behind your back, and face the window," Coco instructed.

"This is nuts," Eliza muttered under her breath as she complied.

And then, Coco tied Eliza's crossed wrists together.  Eliza felt turn after doubled turn of cord pass around, across, and between her wrists... a great many turns... all tight... or more correctly, snug.  Finally, knots were tied, somewhere between her forearms.  Even if her fingers and hands hadn't already been mummified into uselessness, Eliza doubted if she'd have been able to untie the knots, not where they were placed, and not tied in paracord.

Over the course of the next half hour, Coco used additional coils of coyote-brown paracord to bind Eliza from her shoulders to her big toes!  Every time Coco reached the end of a coil, she tied a hitch to maintain the tension, then joined the free ends to a new coil with a compact knot. Effectively, Eliza was bound by one very long, continuous, doubled coil of cord.

Why Eliza just stood there—and later lay on the bed—and let Coco do it to her, she wasn't at all sure.  Eliza scowled and pouted, but didn't say a word.  Maybe she didn't want to be called a quitter.  Who knew?  It certainly wasn't because she was curious about bondage.  Don't be ridiculous.

This was Eliza's first time ever being rendered helpless with rope, cord, tape, or anything else.  If one of her childhood playmates had tried something like this, she would have served up a knuckle sandwich!  Granted, the unfolding experience was... educational.  But still.  Eliza wasn't even trying to negotiate a reduced sentence.  Not that Coco would have relented and changed her plans.  Obviously, being in control was Coco's thing.  'Power, restriction, and control,' Eliza mused as the loops of cord tightened, that's how she put it.

Anyway, Coco finally stepped away from the bed, folded her arms under her breasts, smiled a truly infuriating and gloating smile, and studied her handiwork.

Eliza was tied up.  Twelve to twenty-strand runs of cord yoked her shoulders, pinned her arms to her torso, and lashed her legs together.  To be more detailed, neat, mostly horizontal bands of cord passed above and below her breasts, pinned her upper arms to her torso, passed around her waist and forearms, around her mid thighs, above and below her knees, around her shins and calves, and around her ankles and feet!  In addition, a doubled strand of cord passed between her legs, cleaving her labia and butt-cheeks, and pinned her crossed wrists against her butt.  Another doubled strand tightly encircling her big-toes and was linked to her foot-bonds!  And all the bands of cord were cinched, just about everyplace it was possible for them to be cinched!  Eliza could wiggle and squirm as much as she wanted, but none of her bonds shifted, nor did her limbs.  If she tried something enthusiastic, her bonds loosed a little here, but tightened significantly there, especially through her crotch and around her big toes.

However, despite the tightness and complexity of her bonds, Eliza noticed no tingling or numbness... at least not at the moment.  Obviously, bondage-wise, Coco knew what she was doing, which was reassuring on one level but decidedly ominous on another.

"That should do," Coco purred as she sat on the bed.  She then scooted all the way onto the mattress, pulled Eliza's head and shoulders onto her lap, smiled down at her prisoner's scowling face, and combed Eliza's tousled blond hair with her fingers.  "Don't worry that I'm going to tie you up like this every night you're here.  That wouldn't be very creative, now would it?"

Eliza tried to come up with a snappy comeback, but failed, so she just kept on scowling.

"Now, you told me you're not completely unacquainted with Vinyasa yoga," Coco said, "but I want to see exactly how flexible you are before I try tying your elbows together behind your back."

Eliza's blue eyes widened slightly.

"Some people can handle having their elbows touch quite easily," Coco continued.  "Others... not so much.  We'll see."  Coco's smile widened (and her dimples deepened).  "I do hope you're one of the flexible ones, darling.  Elbow bondage pulls the shoulders back and does wonders for the breasts... especially modest, perky breasts like yours, Tomboy."

Eliza opened her mouth to say something (she wasn't sure what), but was silenced by Coco pressing her right index finger against her lips.

"Hush," the smiling, brunette, fifty-something, not nude and not tied up beauty purred, "And speaking of gags, I haven't had a chance to evaluate your gag reflex either, so let's not do anything stringent and effective your first night, which means..."  She leaned to the side, reached into the gym bag, and pulled out a strip of brown cloth.  It was a long strip, with a seven-inch row of complex,  interwoven knots running down its center.  She thrust the center of the thick string of knots between Eliza's teeth, cinched the ends tight at the nape of her neck, and tied a square-knot.

"Mrrrpfh!"

Eliza found the knotted cloth bit pretty effective at absorbing sound, but the cloth was surprisingly smooth and, to her surprise, more-or-less comfortable.  She tried forcing the thick string of knots from her mouth... to no avail.  Coco had tied it tight, and while the fabric had some degree of stretch, it wasn't nearly enough for her to be able to expel the damn thing.  Eliza stopped trying, and instead concentrated on sending a steady stream of lethal, imaginary, visual daggers in her hostess/captor's direction.

"Oh," Coco sighed, "such anger."  She cupped Eliza's right breast with one hand... then gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Mrrrk?"  Eliza froze in... horror?  Outrage?  Disgust?  Or maybe it was simply... surprise.

"I insist on nudity because it makes my subjects feel all the more vulnerable.  Isn't that right, Tough Girl?"  Coco used her other hand to cup Eliza's left breast... then gave it a squeeze as well.  "The toe and crotch cords anchor your foot and wrist bonds, respectively... but they aren't really necessary.  I guess I'm just being a cruel bitch."

Eliza shivered in her bonds.  She already knew the toe and crotch cords tightened and pinched when she struggled.  She'd learned that as soon as Coco finished tying her up and she started trying to escape.  But truth be told, they weren't that painful.  And they weren't painful at all if she lay perfectly still.  But she agreed about the cruel part... and Coco being a bitch.

Coco stood, zipped the gym bag, and tossed it towards the door.  She then pulled off the bed's top sheet and blanket, grabbed the pillow, and stuffed them in the wardrobe, followed by Eliza's panties and tank-top.  She then closed and locked the wardrobe door, using what appeared to be the same barrel-style key she'd used earlier to unlock the iron gate in the hallway and the bedroom doors.  One key locks and unlocks everything?  That's not at all disturbing, Eliza thought (sarcastically).  Anyway, now all of Eliza's belongings were in the wardrobe... locked in the wardrobe.

"Until morning, Tomboy," Coco purred, blew Eliza a smiling kiss, then made her exit, turning out the overhead light, pulling the door closed, and taking the gym bag with her, of course.

Eliza heard a click, which she strongly suspected was the sound of the thick, solid bedroom door being securely locked.

"Mrrrrrf!"  Eliza struggled, squirmed, rolled, and kicked (ignoring the bite of the toe and crotch cords).  This lasted for nearly a minute... then she stopped.  There was no point.  She wasn't going to wiggle her way out of Coco's cords, not before morning, anyway.  Not ever, actually.  "MRRR!"  And the walls were thick.  There was no way Tippi was going to hear her and come to her rescue, even if Eliza wasn't gagged... and Tippi somehow found her own copy of the door key.

Eliza lay in her incredible bonds and stared into the darkness.  It occurred to her that maybe doing podcasts about Coco Vespini and her controversial Art wasn't such a brilliant idea after all.